Not Pointless

The
       point
                of
                   this
                         poem
                                  is
                                    right
                                            here.
                                     The
                               rest
                            is
                     just
              filler
         with
  structure.

 

Oh, Interjection

Read this once, then destroy

Always consider, but never employ

When the decoy pretends it’s the real McCoy

You’re a fool, boy. Oh, boy.

 

It’s harder to die when you live in fear

Up with the bottle and down with the beer

Even if it appears the end is near

You’re still late for work, dear. Oh, dear.

 

Too tired to sleep, too busy to answer the doorbell

Purposeless like a snail-less shell

The infection will swell, then start to smell  

You don’t look so well. Oh, well.

 

The heavier you get, the farther you’ll fly

It’s easy to eat when you live in a pigsty

You'll never survive if you keep covering your eyes

Just watch out for my—oh, my.

 

Get too close, you’ll lose your toes

Get too high, your whoas become woes

Even a soaring crow must look out below

And if you have to ask, you’ll never know. Oh, no.

Copper

He's not golden.
He's been ten toes down for the last ten months.
Working to get a foot in the door and the other out of his mouth (for once).
To look down on him is to misunderstand his craft.
Watch him slash at his expectations before penning a draft.
If actions speak louder than words, you won’t hear a thing.
Because to him, acting is far from actually writing.
Even as this pursuit of brightness takes its toll.
He’s unconcerned, overwhelmed and out of control.
You can find him liquored up on the rooftop.
Legs draped over the gutter, bottle down to its last drop.
In his mind, there's no rest for the weak.
But he needs a week’s rest, desperately.

Between Friends

He had no love left after breaking his fixation.  
He spent months tripping over the past and falling for the present. The last thing he expected was an invitation.

‘Got my PhD, celebrate with me’
The postcard quivered between his fingers.
There’s no way he’d fly across the country for that. Most of the burning in his gut still lingered.

His phone rang a week later. Just guess.
“It’s kinda short notice,” he lied, “I have something going on.”
“Don’t lie,” she always knew. “It’d mean the world to me if you’d come.”

The loudest plane engine couldn’t drown out the thoughts screaming through his head. Like,
‘Just be polite and for Christ’s sake, don’t say anything embarrassing.’
And,
‘Don’t do this to yourself.’
‘What a fool.’
‘You’re making a mistake.’
 
He almost talked himself out of going into the party. How easy it’d be to just take off running.
But if he wasn’t such a sap, he wouldn’t have come.
Fuck it. Here goes nothing.

The party was full of unfamiliar faces; the type of people they used to make fun of together.
“Enjoy the party!” she toasted the crowd with fake enthusiasm, as she knocked back her glass for good measure.

A couple at the bar asked if he lived around here. He told them he moved to the east coast.
“Well then what brought you back?” they imposed.
He smirked. He sipped. He used to be in love with the host.

He got drunk. Then decided he shouldn’t be there anymore and hoped nobody told her he showed up. Where’s the door?

He had burnt off his cool trying to ignore the elephant in the room.
But as Murphy’s Law was about to fail, she caught him by the coat rack.
“Leaving so soon?”

He eyed her from the top down. She hadn’t changed a bit, despite her new lifestyle.
Funny how he used to get lost in the curve of her cheek and the structure of her well-timed smile.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Neither did I,” he said, reminded of her touches effect.
“I’m glad you did. It feels like it’s been ages,” she took a half step closer.
“Congratulations on your doctorate,” he had to change the subject.

“Thank you. It means so much coming from you,” her eyes went misty.
“I mean, I do know how bad you wanted it,” he responded. Big mistake.
Her face softened. She gripped his arm like she used to.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I have something to say.”

“We used to talk about how we’d be something someday,” she choked out.
“And I know life with you would be so much better than this.”
“I really shouldn’t be here,” he scrambled, “And if I don’t leave now, I’ll lose my wits.”

She pulled him close, one last attempt to remind him what it used to be.
“Please don’t go. I fucked up,” she said through tears.
He couldn’t hold her back, so he told her, “We’re finally free.”

He knew exactly why he was invited. Moving on is easier said than done.
And before she turned around, she confessed.
“Don’t ever forget. You are loved.”

New City Blues

I've got this girl who doesn't love me anymore,

Since I packed up and moved to the shore.

I don’t think she hates me but she fucks with my emotions,

And she messes with my head because I chose to sleep close to the ocean.

Instead of with her.

She was born on a pedestal and I started from the bottom,

Opposites from the beginning but that’s why it was awesome.

Spent four years together but my career caused us problems,

Her heart’s in California, but my brain brought me to Boston.

She didn’t come with me. 

So now here I sit in an east coast city,

Wondering how she’s doing and if she’ll ever miss me.

I try not to think about her by keeping myself busy,

But I still follow her on Instagram — damn, she’s still so pretty.

More like flawless. Fuck. 

The difference between east and west is only a couple letters,

But the only way I’ll learn is through drastic measures.

If she’s gone forever, I wish her the best in her endeavors,

It’s time for me to grow and make myself better.